The Boy Beyond The Veil: Uncage The Wind
by deceitfulDestinee
Summary: No one was ever allowed to leave the city without a permit. The world outside the Baroness's control was dangerous, unpredictable, full of strange creatures, home of trolls, even. But there was one thing that was always allowed to pass through, one thing that could never be stopped or controlled. The wind would always be free.
1. He Dreams Of Freedom

**_SCREECK._**

John bolted upright in his chair, his heart pounding harshly against his ribcage in fright. There was a flash of confusion, one always associated with the first few moments after a suddenly and unsuspected awakening. He forgot he was sitting at his desk, and he forgot he should move with care. The loose leg on his chair popped out, sending him tumbling backwards in a humorous display of childish almost curse words and long flailing limbs. His head struck the wooden floor with enough force to crack loudly, leaving him momentarily dazed and blinded.

**_SCREECK._**

The noise echoed into his room again, and this time he recognized it as the familiar sound of his rusty fire escape ladder grinding against the metal edges of his window. He sat up, rubbing the forming bump on the back of his head, blue eyes narrowed and buck teeth biting lightly into his bottom lip as they always did when he was thinking. How long had he been asleep? He swore he'd only been meaning to blink.

**_SCREECK._**

Oh, right. He should probably get that. John hopped back to his feet, stretching out his long, lanky teenage form before heading towards the distinctive sound. He hopped over a small pile of clothes between his desk and the doorway, took a sharp left when he reached the hallway, took care to leap over the broken board jutting up about six feet from his door, and slid the rest of the way to the window. He tugged the metal cover up and stuck his head out the opening, the glass of the window having long ago shattered and never been replaced. Standing on the rusty, loose ladder was a small female creature, about the size of a ten year old human. She was almost humanoid in shape, with webbed hands and black eyes and a mouth too large for her flat face. Her skin was a bright yellow, looking just a bit damp, where it wasn't covered by her hooded cloak. John smiled and held his hand out.

"Hello, Casey. Sorry, I must've dozed off!" he said cheerily as he helped her into the house.

Casey was a Salmanderin. They usually lived in large groups at the edges of Sessions, or cities, though that was a really old term. They were permitted to do so mostly because the Baroness, ruler of all mankind, saw them as cheap labor that posed little threat. John had found Casey when she was just a baby 'mander, all alone and far from any Salmanderin groves. Dad figured she must've been orphaned or abandoned, so they'd brought her home and taken care of her. She came and went nowadays, occasionally spending a few nights in the nearest grove, but she always came home before too long. Once Casey's feet were firmly and safely planted on the floor, John let her go and made a dash back to his bedroom.

"I'll get you a snack in a second! I just have to fix that stupid chair again. Someone's seriously going to hurt themselves with that thing one day." He laughed as he hopped over the pile of clothes again and bent over to retrieve the lost chair leg.

The chair had been well used when he'd gotten it at the age of seven. Now that he was sixteen, the chair was in far worse shape than ever. He slammed the leg back into place, flipped the chair right side up, and gave it a few raps to knock the peg into place. One day he'd get a new chair, but for now, such a thing is a luxury they couldn't afford. Chairs were manufactured in a very far off Session, meaning their prices in this one were sky high. Things like baking goods, though, were produced in this Session, and were therefore dirt cheap for them, but incredibly expensive in Sessions such as where chairs were produced. Such vast differences in the Sessions economies caused a lot of problems, such as constant shortages and surpluses of all kinds. But there wasn't much anyone could do to change the way the Baroness wanted things done, so it was best not to dwell on it too much. John hopped over the clothes yet again, heading straight down the steps two at a time. When he reached the bottom, he could see right into the kitchen, where Casey was folding her cloak and hanging it over one of the kitchen chairs. John hurried into the kitchen before she could get the snack herself, going for one of the four different cakes on the counter. When Dad went out of Session for work, he always left no less than two cakes and a pie in the kitchen.

Casey smiled and sat down, crossing her legs on the chair. John plopped a large piece of red velvet cake onto a plate, and plopped it down in front of her. She dug in quickly, trying not to make too much of a mess with the crumbs. She was about half way through it before she seemed to remember herself, and swallowed, and said in a surprisingly clear, but quiet voice, "Thank you, John."

"No problem, Casey! Dad's out for awhile this time. How about we watch a movie?" John gave a wide, goofy grin, but it faltered a bit when Casey's eyes flashed towards him almost guiltily, before returning to her cake.

"Um… I actually have some things I need to do. I hope you don't mind… I'm sorry." She apologized in her soft voice, one she rarely used with anyone other than the Egberts.

John's good mood deflated a bit. Usually Casey stayed home with him when Dad left the Session, but recently she's been spending less time at home and more time at groves with other Salmanderins. He knew she was growing up and it was good for her to spend time with others like her, but it was sort of sad to think that one day… she might choose not to come back. He shook that painful thought away, bouncing back with a smile as bright as ever.

"Its fine, Case! You owe me a movie night next time, though. I'll even let you choose."

Casey gave a small smile and nodded, her eyes flashing towards the door. John was a bit disheartened that she had to leave so soon, but he just kept on smiling when he said, "It's alright, you can go."

Casey hopped to her feet, grabbing her plate and hurrying to dump it in the sink. She gave John a hug, and took off for the door.

"Don't forget your cloak!" John yelled after her.

Casey caught the cloak in her fingers without stopping and was gone in seconds. John sighed at the empty kitchen, and strolled out into the den to grab his own cloak. Or, what had been a cloak. After a few alterations by his friend Rose, who lived on the other side of the Session, it could now be pulled over his head, and hung just past his waist. It was a bright blue shade, with a ridiculously long hood that he thought was brilliant. He pulled it up for now, and slipped out the door. He scanned the empty expanse of the mostly abandoned houses around him before he turned and sprinted away from them. It only took him twelve minutes of running before he reached it. He slowed to a stop, and looked up.

Stretching from the ground to far into the sky was a barely visible, shimmering wall of energy of an unknown sort. It was the Baroness' doing, and she never told a soul how she did it. No one was ever allowed to leave the city without a permit. Even those who were given permits, like his father, were only allowed to leave for pre-approved reasons, and traveled using guarded streamlines from shielded city to city. It was forbidden for anyone to travel outside of mapped and guarded perimeters. The world outside the Baroness's control was dangerous, unpredictable, full of strange creatures, home of trolls, even. It had been so many years since the disaster that sent mankind scrambling behind force fields for protection, that no one remembered living otherwise, nor what it was they were truly hiding from. The shields that guarded each city were designed to keep all things living both in and out. Escape was just as difficult as invasion, at least in theory. But there was one thing that was always allowed to pass through, one thing that could never be stopped or controlled. John smiled, his eyes flashing brightly in the lime light of the sun. They began to glow, a soft blue color that soon spread from the confines of his eyes to his face, to his head, to his whole body. He took a step forward, passing through the shield with ease. There was a familiar thrill in his stomach, one that came with such glimpses of freedom, of bending such long-set laws. The air rushed to his call, shaking his hair, his clothes, making him grin even as it left him looking even more disheveled than before. Yes, there was one thing even the Baroness herself couldn't control. The wind would always be free.

* * *

Obviously I don't own Homestuck.

Its late and I have testing tomorrow so I'll make an actual note tomorrow probably.


	2. The Sky Is Tainted By Poison Blood

**_Crunch._**

Karkat bolted straight in an instant, his lips curling into a threatening sharp toothed snarl, extending his clawed hands in a defensive measure. His eyes flashed over the familiar landscape, searching any possible hiding place for a rogue troll or lone lusii.

The decaying lawnring offered quite a few hiding places, but it was nearly impossible to sneak up on someone, at least, if you weren't Karkat. The ground was covered in the rubble of fallen hives, much of the thick black rock having been ground down to sharp gravel that crunched loudly at the slightest of pressures. The sound bounced off the surviving walls of the tall structures, creating a decent enough echo. He narrowed in on the general direction of the sound and scanned for any sign of life, and little movement or a new sound. The wind picked up, swirling through the lawnring and creating an eerie whistle as it passed through the hollow ruins, but there was nothing to indicate an attacker.

Karkat relaxed a bit, dropping his hands. It was probably just a meowbeast or something. The wind, though, was acting a bit unusual, and that set off a few alarms. There were a lot of storms that swept through this area, and they could get extremely dangerous. He slid down the pile of rubble he'd been rummaging through and set off towards his hive at a brisk pace. If he didn't get back before it started storming, he might have to take shelter in one of the abandoned hives, and his lusus would worry. The last thing he wanted was for Crabdad to come looking for him and get injured or lost a storm again. He'd almost died once when Karkat was barely more than a grub, and the memory was still terrifying enough to give Karkat a healthy respect for Mother Nature. Not to mention a slight really bad fear of storms. He cast a nervous glance at the sky and walked a bit faster.

It was the Growing Season, which meant the sun was far enough away to allowed plants and creatures to grow rather than shrivel up and burn to death in its rays. Actually, it was even a bit chilly at this time of year. The sun gave the sky a pale green glow, the clouds were almost yellow. It might've been pretty, if it wasn't hanging over the remains of a planet gutted by war and crushed in the grip of cruel Empresses, where scraps of civilizations eke out a living on the hollow shell of their dead planet. To Karkat, the sky looked diseased. Like their sun was dying and poisoning the planet of Maicoin with its tainted blood. He cringed at the thought. He wasn't really one to talk about tainted blood now, was he? He was a mutant slated for culling. Maybe that was why he hated the sun, it was a reminder of what a freak he was.

**_CRUNCH._**

Karkat stopped dead in his tracks, tearing his eyes from the sky and jerking back into a defensive position as the same sound, this time louder and somehow more threatening, echoed in his ears. This time it was definitely _not _a meowbeast, and he mentally kicked himself for letting himself lose focus on his surroundings. It was stupid mistakes like that that got trolls culled. Maybe it was just a lowblood looking for shelter? Some sort of orphan, or a lost wriggler. Maybe it would be someone weak who wouldn't give him much trouble.

**_CRACK._**

A piece of rubble hit the wall in front of him with enough force to shatter into hundreds of tiny pieces. Bolstering laughter sounded as four large trolls rounded the corner, probably nine or ten sweeps. Karkat's stomach dropped. These were highbloods, and he was in trouble. He took a step backwards, feebly hoping that maybe they wouldn't notice him and just continue on being assholes some other place. That half hearted hope was crushed almost instantly when one of them locked eyes on him, grinned darkly, and lunged for him with no provocation whatsoever. Luckily, Karkat was quick and agile, a blessing from his small stature and years of living in ruins, and jumped away from the strangers grasp.

"Don't fucking touch me, asshole." He snarled before it could occur to him that maybe antagonizing them wasn't the best course of action. He got progressively more pissy the more defensive he was.

The troll growled at him, taking a step forward. Karkat took a step back, and was suddenly away he was almost backed into a hive wall. Shit.

"What did you call me, you pathetic low-blooded little wriggler?"

Karkat looked around frantically for some way of escape. The troll had to be at least nine sweeps, at the youngest, and had quite a few inches—okay, feet on him. Two of the other trolls were stalking closer, obviously having every intention of backing up their buddy. It looked like he didn't have much of a choice but to fight, and one glimpse of his blood would likely lead to his death, if they didn't already plan on killing him just for shits and giggles. _Shit. _

His aggressor smirked when he failed to reply, a sadistic one that said he was really going to get a kick out of causing the child some pain. "What do you say we have some fun and kick the brat around a little?"

Someone scoffed, drawing everyone's attention. The fourth troll stood a ways back, his arms crossed over his chest, watching them. He was long haired, and ragged looking, with a broken horn and shattered sun glasses shielding his eyes. "You're pathetic, Cintho. I for one refuse to partake in your shameless exploits. The boy is nothing more than a lost wriggler, what satisfaction is there to be had from a fight with an opponent with no strength? You are simply picking weak targets to make yourself appear as though you are strong, when you clearly are not."

Cintho snarled at the busted troll. The lone female of the group rolled her eyes, and the fourth troll shot busted boy a dirty look. Maybe if he stayed distracted for long enough. . .

"Shut the fuck up, Zahhak! No one asked your opinion, Mr. High And Fucking Mighty. I'm strong enough to kick your ass if I wanted to and where the hell do you think you're going?!"

Karkat's hopes of escape were dashed when Cintho caught him by his tattered cloak and yanked him back. His eyes flashed fearfully towards the other trolls, and busted boy gave a shrug as if to say, _"Sorry, kid." _

Karkat flexed his hand, ready to summon his weapon, as it no longer mattered if the trolls realized he wasn't normal, but a fist connected with his face before he could manage. There was a sharp snap, and pain seared through his nose. Panic was hitting him hard, his nose had just broken, and he would certainly be bleeding, and they were going to kill him. He had to get his weapon before—And suddenly, the hand on his cloak was gone, and he was stumbling back into the wall. He blinked, struggling to see through the water brought to his eyes by the sharp pain. Cintho was several feet away now, on his back on the ground, cussing and groaning.

"Why don't you pick on someone your own size, jerks?"

Karkat swung his head, staring up at a figure who seemed to be draped in blue, floating about a foot above his head. Several questions entered Karkat's mind. Who was this person? Where had they come from? _Why in the hell was he __**floating**__? _His biggest question, though, was why the stranger was defending him. It was definitely not a thing he was used to, at least with anyone other than his moirail. Hell, it still surprised him that Gamzee wanted anything to do with him.

The female troll helped Cintho to his feet, while his male buddy snarled and charged for the floating boy. At least, Karkat thought it was a boy, the voice had sounded male enough. The boy flung his hands out, and the bulky troll went flying into the remains of a wall. _Wind, _Karkat registered dully, _he's controlling the wind. _

Windy boy turned his head towards busted troll boy, who just shook his head. Satisfied that anyone who was going to attack them was currently flat on their asses in the gravel, the boy dropped to the ground, grabbed Karkat by the hand not clamped over his nose, and ran. While Karkat appreciated the fact he hadn't been expected to fly after windy boy, he had almost about as much luck keeping up with him on the ground. He was fast but fuck when did they start making legs that long and was all this wind really necessary? He didn't know how long they ran, or in which direction they went, but at some point in dawned on him he had no idea who he was running with.

"Hey! Hey, stop! _Stop!" _

Windy boy must've heard him over the roar of the air he was kicking around, because he looked back to make sure they weren't being followed, which would've been damn near impossible at the speed they were running, and jerked him behind a crumbling wall. The wind died suddenly as they skidded to a stop, and Karkat doubled over, nearly falling on his head. He coughed, flinching at the sensation of blood dripping down his lips. He hated bleeding, and he did not want to show off his mutant blood to the stranger, even if he had saved his life. He straightened, hand still clamped over his nose, and prepared to demand the windy boy explain who he was and why he had dragged him off.

The rant died in his throat as an oddly colored hand was shoved in his face. Standing before him was a tall _human _boy, his long blue hood thrown back to reveal messy black hair. Karkat was struck silent for a moment, because he'd never met a human before, what was he even doing out here?

"Hello!" the boy said cheerily, flashing a bucktoothed grin, "My name is John Egbert! What's yours?"

* * *

Chapter Two! The name of the planet is Maicoin. It comes from "maison coincé", which is French for "home stuck".

The bully troll's name, Cintho, comes from "hyacintho", Latin word for "blue".


	3. Windy Boy To The Rescue

John groaned, blinking blearily up at the sky. The green light and the burning sensation in his back made his eyes water. He sat up slowly, the sharp black gravel that had been digging harshly into his back crunching beneath him. One raw hand came up to grip his throbbing head. Ow, shit. Note to self: Propelling yourself upside down and backwards through unfamiliar territory? Not the best idea. Before he had a chance to get a handle on his surroundings, a scratchy snarl pierced his ears, sending him instinctively into panic mode. The wind reacted automatically, as if it protected him of its own free will, obscuring his scent and any further sound as he scrambled back against one of the remaining buildings. He briefly shimmered in and out of visibility, flashing from solid to wind in his panic. A million possible terrible things crossed his mind as he settled on invisibility and peered out into the wide rubble field. He was surprised by what he saw.

It wasn't a giant beast or one of the Baroness' agents, or anything that he'd been expecting. Instead, it seemed to be a humanoid being, shorter than he was, with black hair just as messy, and odd gray skin. There was something orange on its head, peaking up though the loose hood of its long and tattered dark brown cloak. John was almost a hundred percent certain this was a troll. A bit of excitement sparked. He knew what trolls were, of course, but he'd never met one, and he knew almost nothing about them. They were supposed to be dangerous, but according to the Baroness, everything she didn't like was dangerous. You could never really know the truth of something unless you checked it out yourself. So, unable to resist the pull of curiosity, not that he was really trying to, he stealthily floated after the troll when it walked away.

John was pretty sure the troll was a boy. He just sort of looked . . . male? Not that he was all that familiar with the gender identification of trolls, but calling him "he" seemed better than "it." Initially the troll walked so swiftly John had to fly up above him in his invisible gusts of wind to keep from losing track of him, but eventually he slowed to a stroll. John took the opportunity to drop onto the nearest building and lay down flat, releasing his wind cloak, and peering over the edge. The troll was staring up, watching the sky with glassy orange and black eyes. John blinked and turned his head up, lifting a hand to shield his eyes from the low intensity of the green sun. There wasn't anything especially spectacular about the sky at the moment; it was relatively calm and only slightly cloudy. Personally, he thought the sky would look much prettier if it were blue or orange. This time of year, the yellow-green tone looked almost sickly. The only time it looked truly pretty was when the sun was going down, when the light would hit the clouds in just the right way and outline them in every color of the rainbow. He smiled, losing himself in his thoughts until the noise from below caught his attention again.

John turned his head down, pulling himself farther over the edge to peer down at the commotion. Several other trolls had moved into the alley way, and all of them were much taller than the lone troll he'd been following. He couldn't hear any of the conversation, but it didn't look like they were getting along. He leaned down even further, risking discovery in an effort to catch their conversation, and quite suddenly one of the larger trolls spun around and slammed their fist into the young troll's face. His stomach dropped like a stone and without a moment's hesitation he launched himself off of the roof. He stopped in midair, floating several feet above the ground, and sent the attacker flying with a wave of his arm. He saw the smaller troll stumble, but didn't give him attention for long.

Another of the trolls lunged for him, and he deflected the attack by knocking his aggressor through a wall. He skimmed over the female troll, because it wasn't right to hit women of any species unless you had to, and frowned at the remaining member of the group. The troll shook his head and held his hands up, indicating he wanted nothing to do with this mess.

Satisfied the attackers had been neutralized, but not for long, he dropped lightly back on his feet and spun to face the troll in distress. He seemed to be in a state of mild shock, but they didn't have time for that. John took him by the hand, and bolted. He didn't have a destination in mind or any idea of what direction they were going, but he ran as fast as his companion would allow, boosting their speed with wind as much as he could. As long as they were away, it didn't matter where they ended up, right? It took several minutes for the stranger to snap out of his daze, but when he did, he made his voice heard. John glanced back at him, gave the landscape a sweeping glance, and made a sudden turn behind a crumbling wall.

He stopped on a time, not affected in the least by the run. The troll, however, nearly tumbled head first into the gravel as he skidded ungracefully to a stop. John took a moment to eagerly examine the foreign boy. He was a good five or so inches shorter than John, with short messy hair that looked like a bed-head. The orange blurs on his head turned out to be short, candy-corn shaped horns in three different shades. His brown cloak was tattered, with the occasional patch, and it was clear he was fairly low on the social spectrum. He quite suddenly straightened, a determined glare on his face that flashed quickly to a startled expression. His eyes were a shocking shade of red, one that reminded John of his bro, who hid his own eyes behind a pair of dark shades. One hand was pressed to his face, likely guarding a broken nose. John realized he was staring, and broke into a wide and friendly smile, holding his hand out.

"Hello! My name is John Egbert, what's yours?"

The troll stared blankly at the offered appendage, until his face was overtaken by a scowl, as if somehow offended by the fact the human existed. He swatted the proposed shake away with his free hand, stepping around John and storming away. John was confused by the reaction, had he done something to upset the other? Hey, he'd just saved his life; he should at least get a thank you!

"Hey, where are you going?"

"Home." the troll said shortly, not bothering to turn around or pause.

John watched him for a moment, noting that the other did not seem very friendly at all. He also seemed angry, and a bit dangerous. And small and injured and alone. If he was smart he'd go home and forget he ever even saw the troll, before he landed himself in serious trouble. Then again, he'd never been known as the smart kid in the group. So rather than return to the relative safety of his home behind the veil, he followed the troll to his.

* * *

So sorry for the delay. I was distracted by an unrelated fantroll project. I was going to make this longer, but I decided the next part should be in Karkat's POV.


End file.
